


Bad Night

by fandomfatale



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1912869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfatale/pseuds/fandomfatale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She woke up the same way she did all things – quickly, intently.</p>
<p>Warily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Night

She woke up the same way she did all things – quickly, intently.

Warily. 

She registered an ambience of unfamiliarity before flinging open her eyes. The harsh sunlight hammering through the windows gave her a blinding shock but she managed to scan the room before blinking against the brilliant assault. An otherwise empty hospital room. Not ICU. U.S., almost certainly. 2:00 PM, give or take 20 minutes.

One exit.

Other, duller pains faded in. A soreness in her stomach (broken rib, maybe two), a stinging in her arm (bullet graze), a throbbing in her foot (fractured toe. Fuck. Toe injuries were disproportionately inconvenient), and a splitting headache. 

Her memories were scattered. Obviously there had been a fight. She vaguely recalled a man in heavy boots stomping on her foot. It had been night then. It might have been only 12 hours ago, but she feared, given her injuries, that it might have been 36 or more. Judging by her disorientation she was concussed, and she was beginning to suspect there had been significant blood loss as well. 

She reached over and switched off the monitors, then ripped off the leads and extracted the IV tube in one swift motion. 

Her feet hit the vinyl floor with an inaudible slap as she slid off the edge of the bed. Peeking at her chart she pondered the unknown name before flying to the wall and plastering herself against it within the radius of the door and out of sight of its sliver of window. She bit back a moan of pain and conquered a pang of wooziness, glancing around the room for some pills, but there was only equipment. She made her best use of that, grabbing a heavy-looking canister and holding it up in position over her shoulder for a possible bludgeoning. 

It was only then that she leaned over to glimpse into the hallway. 

She didn’t realize she had been trembling with weakness until the trembling stopped when she saw him. Across the hall, sitting in a small wooden-armed chair with scratchy wool upholstery, was Steve. His hair was mussed and his skin was varnished with dried blood and dirt, but he was dozing peacefully against his arm. 

She set the canister down, hobbled back to the bed, and allowed herself to faint into her pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably just let the ficlet speak for itself but I wanted to add, just in case it wasn't clear, that this is was just a little sketch of Natasha having perfect and complete trust in Steve.


End file.
